You Saw My Blinker Bitch











{April 2, 2010}   Journey to Homeless

My move is complete. I now officially live out of a storage unit, with no address and no clue as to what happens next. It’s funny, but I didn’t even really feel like I was leaving my apartment for good when I left. It just seemed like I was headed out to the grocery store, except that I had one crying cat and one panicked cat in crates in my back seat. I left the porch light on, checked that I had my keys, and closed the door. Part of me realizes that this whole thing is very real, and part of me still thinks I’m just kickin’ it at Mom’s for a few days and I’ll be back.

The last few days (or crunch time) were a mess. Wednesday last week my friend was gracious enough to come help me move. He has a mini-van and was absolutely sure that my big shit would fit. I was more than skeptical, but who am I to look a gift mini-van in the mouth? I had my queen sized mattress and box spring (which for some reason is like, super deep – I have to JUMP to get onto my bed), my love seat hide-a-bed (heavy fucker he is), and my dresser. It was great he was coming to help, but as I was still healing from armpit surgery and had stitches it was going to be a challenge for the two of us to do this. To my great pleasure and surprise, he had enlisted the help of another male friend of ours to do the lifting – he didn’t want me to pop my stitches. Most would find this to be a great act of chivalry, but I know the truth – if I had popped a stitch, he’d have to hear about it for months on end. I’m spiteful like that. My beloved mattress was strapped to the roof rack, and with the dresser safely tucked inside we headed to my storage unit. Now it’s only a five minute drive, but it’s all downhill. So as the boys are following behind me I’m checking my mirrors to see if my mattress is being run over after having dislodged itself from the roof rack. To my great relief, all three items made it safe and sound to storage and I didn’t have to lift a finger.

Forward past the post-move celebration of beers and sliders at The Jolly Roger Tap Room, to about 10:45 that evening when it dawns on me – I JUST PUT MY FUCKING BED INTO STORAGE. What I thought I was going to be sleeping on that night is beyond me. My son’s bed had long been dismantled and there wasn’t even a chair to sit on. Ok, that’s a lie there was, but I wasn’t going to sleep on a crappy office chair. So here I am, driving home from a friend’s house thinking I had to sleep on the floor. All of a sudden, the brilliance of an eleven year old strikes and my son reminds me that although completely dismantled, his mattress is still in the apartment. SCORE! So we slid his queen mattress into my room and cuddled for the few days remaining in the unit. It was a real Madonna and Child kind of bonding we had. Except for the excruciating pain I had in my lower back from where he had curled into a ball and his knees were pressed into me.

Thursday was pay back. You see, the two boys who helped me move were both also separately moving into their own new places. So rather than pack up my remaining belongings (my kitchen had not been touched – including doing the dishes – since before surgery) and setting myself a bit more at ease that it would all actually get done on time, I helped a friend move. It’s all worth it in the end, because if we all help out now, we all remember and the help will be there again when we need it. Plus he had taken some of my things off my hands for me so I really did owe him. When that was done I pretty much went home and took a nap before going back to bed. Good times.

Friday my friend Janie and I had coffee – I think. I can’t remember but there are good chances we did. Although now that I’m thinking on it, maybe we didn’t. I feel like she came to help at some point. She must have. I just know it. Well shit, it appears that I’ve plumb forgot what I did last Friday, and that was just a week ago. OH. I know. I partied. Well, not until the evening, but I did party a bit. Hey, a girl’s gotta blow off some steam ya know? It’s been tense what with the getting evicted and having a week to pack up four and a half years of your life and trying to figure out what happens to the cats and where I’ll sleep and how my son’s gonna deal. Sadly, I didn’t even get drunk. Not to make me sound like a lush or anything. I mean, yeah, ok, so I like to imbibe from time to time, or every other day, or on a day that ends in ‘y’, but I’m not an alcoholic. I swear. No, wait – it’s coming back to me. I *did* meet up with Janie part of the day because we worked on the kitchen and I kept trying to give her my shit that her wife really didn’t want me to send home. We settled on leaving the pile at my place and when Linsey came over the next day she would have veto power over any of our selections. Lucky for me she only nixed one.

Home stretch here, I swear. Saturday morning Linsey was coming to help but I had little to no motivation. I spent most of my time putting up ads on Craigslist hawking my shit for FREE because people were too cheap to actually buy it. Crazy thing was, after listing my two biggest burdens the first e-mail response I got was from my friend’s ex-wife. I’m told she isn’t the most reliable person but I thought hey, it serves both of us and if I get so inclined maybe I can visit my furniture one day. Yeah, I’d so some shit like that. So Linsey shows and we pack up the kitchen and I make a few car trips to the storage unit wherein I realize that the Saturday before the first of the month is a fucked day to go to storage as that’s when everyone and their fucking brother goes and they bring big ass moving trucks. With toilets in them.  I never did figure out why they were storing that toilet but my Mom says toilets are very personal so who am I to judge? Anyhow, Linsey and I didn’t do a whole lot, but I was lonely as my son was at my Dad’s to be out of the way and I can’t really think or work alone. It was enough that she was there to get me through that day.

Whew! Sunday. The day. The last chance I had to get my shit out of the place and I hadn’t even gone through my clothes yet. The unit doesn’t have a washer or dryer so I had dirty laundry, clean clothes, stuff for Goodwill, and stuff for storage. Janie kicks ass y’all. She came in and although I pretended I was calling the shots, she got in there and directed and cleaned and helped me gather what was left and get it to where it needed to be gotten to. It was awesome. Then, as we were fairly set in our standing, feeling damn good about ourselves, I realized we had forgotten an entire cabinet completely. Lucky for us it was small-ish but we were out of boxes. Another lucky break was that my son insists on keeping shoe boxes (he gets it from my ex, unfortunately) and one was in the recycle bin. Most of the stuff fit and we were done. DONE. OMG, DONE.  It wasn’t spotless, it wasn’t great, but it was over. Except that the friend’s ex never showed. Wasn’t I told something about that? Yeah. So with Janie safely at home, and me borrowing her cat crates, I waited in the empty unit on that damn office chair texting and IM-ing, waiting for her to show. Finally the last of the furniture was picked up, and I closed that door one last time.



et cetera